


Denmark Street

by Granspn



Series: queen in 3d [5]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: the fucking john reid cinematic universe, the lads bumbling through life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:07:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19173913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Granspn/pseuds/Granspn
Summary: The band’s management is shit and they score a meeting w/ someone new. Let’s fking go





	Denmark Street

**Author's Note:**

> so like, I saw rocketman and then promptly saw it two more times so safe to say I’m back in rock fandom mode and thought I’d add a bit more to this clusterfuck of a fic. am I right ladies?

“Clapham Common,” Brian said between sips of mint tea from a styrofoam cup. This meeting with the potential new management was well early. Brian, Roger, and Freddie were stood on a deserted street corner waiting for John Deacon to emerge from his minuscule flat so they could all turn up together; a united front was part of their well carefully constructed plan to make the best first impression they could if they really did want to switch managers. And they really did. 

“Going in on a diagonal early, Bri. Very risky,” Roger said as he peered up into the grey sky through his tinted shades. 

“What can I say? Fortune favors the bold. Your go,” Brian said. 

“High Wycombe. And don’t forget rule eight is suspended,” Roger told Freddie.

“Oxford Circus,” he said quickly. He was trying his hardest not to appear nervous but to be sure, he wasn’t succeeding. Hopefully it wouldn’t be as obvious to _Elton John’s_ _manager_ as it was to Brian and Roger, anyway. 

“Just off High Wycombe? That’s some strategy,” Brian said, watching his breath curl in the cool morning air. “Leicester Square, in honor of Deaky, God rest his soul.” 

“Ha!” Roger barked out a laugh, disturbing the peace and quiet of the empty road, “Chesham.” 

“Mornington Crescent. I’m bored. Let’s do something else,” Freddie said tersely, but was spared the task of choosing the next activity by the silhouette of a bassist emerging in front of them.

“It’s not even a real game,” Brian muttered as Roger mumbled an, “Oh, thank God,” upon seeing John. 

“Jesus, sorry I’m so late. Our heater broke and we couldn’t get any hot water. Honestly, I had to shower at Mrs. H’s next door!” John said in response to the other’s incredulous looks.

“Wow,” Roger said.

“Whatever,” Brian said turning briskly back the way they’d come, “So long as we’re not late.”

“Exactly,” Freddie said, clapping John lightly on the back and beginning to whistle what could have passed as a jaunty little tune. Roger recognized it as they were taking hurried steps into the underground station and grinned, beginning to sing softly once they were waiting for their train.

_“Down the way from the Tottenham Court Road_ ”

“Ha!” Brian laughed, nerves making him giddy as he got his own transit directions sung back to him.

“ _Just round the corner from old Soho,_ ” John joined in, halfway between singing and mumbling.

“ _There’s a place where the publishers go!”_ Freddie joined too, ending the line with a flourish. They pseudo-busked in Deaky’s local train station until it filled too much with commuters for them to really enjoy themselves, at which point they were finally able to board a train and head into town. 

Reid’s office wasn’t actually on Denmark Street. It was fifteen minutes away by bus in the EMI building in Manchester Square which meant if they were lucky, the guys would be recreating the _Please Please Me_ album cover by midday. And if they weren’t lucky, maybe they’d at least have been let down gently, and could go and pick up a couple ‘45s to soothe their souls (and egos) afterwards. 

As they rode the train, Freddie attempted to puzzle through a sudoku but wasn’t making much headway on account of he was actually internally rehearsing the band’s pitch. Across from him, Roger had his eyes closed and his head on Brian’s shoulder in a valiant attempt at a nap while Brian had to practically sit on his hands to stop him compulsively fiddling with his hair. He’d never even thought about it before until a few months previously a journalist had written that during their interview he kept springing the curls and he couldn’t help thinking that was a little undignified. Meanwhile, next to Freddie, John just twiddled his thumbs and listened to the station announcements, seemingly unfazed by the fact that their musical career hung in the balance of how smoothly this meeting went. Eventually, Brian couldn’t take it anymore.

“Aren’t you nervous?” He asked John incredulously. Freddie peered over his puzzle at Brian from across the carriage. John titled his head like he was genuinely thinking about it.

“I suppose not. I mean, we know the music is good, don’t we? And _they_ asked to speak with _us_ ,” John reasoned, “We have our piece to say. It’s not like we’re going to have to go in there and grovel.” A satisfied smile slipped through Roger’s pretend sleep while Brian restrained himself from rolling his eyes. 

“And you’re happy with that, Fred?” Brian asked. Freddie sighed. 

“Brian, darling, you know I’m nervous. But that’s just me! Honestly, I envy Deaky his complacency, don’t you? Wouldn’t life be more fun if you weren’t a neurotic wreck?” Before Brian could interrupt, Freddie added, “That’s speaking as a neurotic wreck myself, of course.”

“Of course,” Brian said, deflating slightly and sinking back into his seat so Roger could apparently attempt to burrow even further into his bony shoulder. 

“He’s right,” Roger mumbled, “We are good. If they turn us down then they’re idiots. We wouldn’t want to work with them anyways, then.”

“If they won’t work with us, won’t give us what we need, who will?” Brian said quietly enough that only Roger could hear him. He didn’t answer; he simply pretended to have nodded off again, resolving to put worst-case-scenarios out of his mind until absolutely necessary. 

 

***

 

They’d thought that the lobby of EMI headquarters would be somehow resplendent, a splendid display of marble and gold trim, signed album posters lining the walls, and a glamorous receptionist already waiting to take them upstairs. But it was just a normal building. The girl behind the front desk looked at tired as they were. Mornings are still early even if you work at EMI. 

Freddie walked straight up to the desk while the other three stayed slightly behind. Roger and Brian shared a furtive glance while John craned his neck to look up at the staircase. Sans Beatles, it was just a normal staircase. Still pretty cool, Deaky figured, as Freddie began speaking to the receptionist.

“Good morning,” he said politely but without smiling.

“How can I help you?”

“Yes, I– we– My name is– We’re called– We have a meeting with John Reid at nine,” Freddie finished. Concisely. 

“Sure, I’ll phone up. Can I have a name please.” 

“We’re called Queen. I’m Freddie Mercury.” The receptionist tried to hide the surprise on her face as she finally gave the guys a good once over. Then she managed a decorous smile before picking up the phone and forcing herself to say “Queen are here for you, sir.” 

“Thank you very much,” Freddie said sweetly as she waited for a response.

“All right, lifts’s on your left. Twelfth floor.”

The four of them entered the elevator after a chorus of “cheers’s” and “thank you, love’s.”

“Smooth,” Roger said, once the doors were safely closed. 

“Oh, fuck off,” Freddie said. He hands were shaking but his eyes were glinting. His words were cruel but he couldn’t stop himself grinning with anticipation. 

“Children, please,” John chided halfheartedly. 

“How’s my hair? Not too insane?” Brian asked.

“I thought you wanted it to look insane,” John said by way of an answer.

“Don’t set him off right this instant, Deaky, I swear to God,” Freddie said, “You look fine, darling, like an inky Robert Plant.”

“Brilliant,” Brian said flatly as the lift dinged eleven. 

“All right, lads, stop messing about,” Roger said, straightening his blazer one last time, “It’s showtime.” And they stepped off onto the landing.

The man that must have been John Reid was waiting for them by an office door looking sharper than should have been possible before ten in the morning. Everything about him was the antithesis of their look. He _matched_. They didn’t. 

For the first time, Freddie became self-conscious of the band’s discordant aesthetic. From Roger’s glittering trainers to Freddie’s heeled boots to Deaky’s suede shoes to Brian’s clogs, they barely looked like they belonged to the same decade, much less the same band. Freddie made the snap decision to keep his sunglasses on despite the cloudy day (and the fact that they were inside) so at least he would match Roger in that respect. Reid shot them an appraising look, almost imperceptible, but Freddie could have sworn he perceived it.

“Good morning, lads. Why don’t you step into my office?” 

 

***

 

“So, tell me, why did you take this meeting?” Reid asked from behind a mahogany desk that was just classy enough to be the right side of ostentatious. Freddie and the guys had been perfecting what they were going to say all week.

“We’re interested in pursuing our management options. Our vision is growing faster and farther than we feel our current label can take us. And we’re curious what EMI thinks it can make happen.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves–“ Reid began. 

“Quite frankly, our management is shit,” Roger said. “We’ve written hit after hit at this point, generated millions of pounds for the company and haven’t seen a penny of it!”

John smiled sadly down at his lap. “It’s true,” he corroborated, “I asked for a small advance, you see, my fiancée and I are trying to buy a house, and they couldn’t scrape a thousand pounds together for our deposit. But, you know, I know they have the money. Just not for me and Ronnie, apparently. And our family,” John finished, flashing his best and most meaningful gaze at Reid. So far, everything was going according to plan.

“I see. That’s certainly a shame, Mr. Deac–“

“We’re actually prepared to do quite a lot of the heavy lifting ourselves, er, so to speak,” Brian cut in. “On the technical side, of course, Deaky and I have actually constructed a fair bit of our own equipment. My guitar, our amps, for example. And when it comes to the business side of things we’re perfectly equipped to keep our affairs in order. We can budget, Mr. Reid. We’ve been skint over five years, and John’s genuinely made a bit of a hobby out of accountancy.” 

“Genuinely,” Deaky agreed. 

“We haven’t come to mess around,” Freddie said with finality, “We’ve come to find ourselves a new manager.” Well, that was the pitch pitched. Time to see if it was a catch or a hit. 

“The hard sell,” Reid said, “right off the bat.” He straightened his tie. The band might have been mismatched, hard to get a read on, but he was inscrutable. 

“Hadn’t thought of it that way,” Brian muttered, a crease forming between his eyebrows. 

“It’s no secret you have potential. Incredible potential, seriously,” Reid said, “You’ve already been transatlantic, yes?”

“Yes,” Freddie said, “We supported Mott the Hoople. Sold out every show.” 

“Yes, I’ve heard. And you’ve got personality, I mean great personality. People love you, your charisma. And you’re all different. Little something for everyone, I suppose.” 

“Exactly,” Roger said, smiling and nodding along. He’d been meant to be playing the gruffest, most hot-headed version of himself but the constructed persona faded as the possibility that they were about to sign on with Reid grew more and more tangible. 

“We could line up some great stuff for you. Tours. Record deals, a hundred times better than anything else you’re seeing. We think we see what you’re going for, you know, the epic scale of it all. Six minute rock ballads, three minute guitar solos, backing vocals multitracked in triplicate, it’s all new, it’s all exciting, and it’s all people are talking about. You could do something great with the freedom you’d have here. That vision you mentioned, we want to see it too.” 

“Pshhh,” Deaky said, “Wow. Fred, I don’t think this could literally be going any better.” 

So they laughed and they spoke and they talked numbers but only for a minute and they agreed to another meeting and a tentative headline tour and they shook hands and they made to leave. 

“Oh, and John?” Reid said to Deaky, “Just let me know what you need for the deposit on that house. And give your finacée my congratulations.” 

“Seriously? No, I couldn’t possibly–“

“Hey, it’s your money,” Reid said, “You just have to write the songs.” 

“Right,” Deaky said, “Will do.” And he smiled. And they smiled. And they left. 

 

***

“Holy shit! We did it!” Roger exclaimed once they’d left the building.

“No more fucking blood-sucking Trident leeches, I swear,” Freddie said, breathing like he hadn’t exhaled for the past half hour. 

“We’ve actually got ourself a proper manager,” Brian remarked with a slight smirk, “like we’re a proper group or something.”

“We are a proper group,” John said looking bewildered. “Not quite sure how we got here.” 

“One foot in front of the other, my dear,” Freddie said, “Oh, and we took the tube!” And Freddie galavanted off with Roger behind him and John behind him, and Brian in the back taking long slow paces and whistling a jaunty tune as they made their way to the nearest record store. 

**Author's Note:**

> for those interested, the “game” they’re playing at the beginning is “mornington crescent,” from I’m sorry I haven’t a clue, which has been running since 1972 and although I’m not sure when this particular segment was introduced that probably doesn’t matter bc this must be far too niche for anyone else to care about. 
> 
> also, the title comes from the featured song of the same name, by the kinks, which is also meant to be brian's jaunty tune at the end
> 
> also also, I’ve had this and a few other drabbles in my drafts for months at this point so lmk if you’d be interesting in reading any short little snippets I have left that probably aren’t gonna become whole sections
> 
> Thanks for your feedback as always!!


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